


Predator

by Eldritch



Category: Petshop of Horrors
Genre: Community: springkink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-05
Updated: 2008-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-02 18:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eldritch/pseuds/Eldritch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Springkink prompt "Leon/D or Tetsu/D: hand fetishisation - They look delicate but those nails could slit your throat."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Predator

Leon arrived at the shop just in time to see the medics carting off some shabbily-dressed man on a stretcher. It was hard to see in the darkness punctuated only by the neon lights of the other shops and the flashing colors of the ambulance and other police vehicles, but the guy didn't look so bad off. He had a long line of claw-like scratches he side of his face, deep enough to reveal a gleam of white that could have been bone, but mostly it looked like nothing that a few stitches couldn't fix. Painful, but nothing major.

_If this involves another tiger_, Leon found himself thinking, _I'm going back to bed._

As soon as the EMTs finished loading the hapless man into the ambulance, Leon managed to elbow his way through the crowd of gawkers. A few of them he vaguely recognized from the homes and stores adjacent to the pet shop. Those were the ones who moved out of his way without a word. The cop at the police tape was another story.

"Sir," the young man began-- new recruit, _had_ to have just graduated from the academy, from the way his uniform was pressed and neat and the nervous set to his shoulders-- "I really can't let you through, so if you'd just--"

With a roll of his eyes, Leon flashed his badge. He didn't even give the greenhorn a chance to stutter out an apology before he ducked under the tape. There was an amused chatter from the spectators behind him. _Glad someone's having a good night_, he thought sourly.

Everything inside the entrance to the shop looked normal, which was to say it didn't look normal at all. Same old over-the-top decorations, complete with the almost choking scent of incense. Leon entertained himself with the thought that the guy in the ambulance was part of a drug deal gone bad. If that was the case, maybe his night _was_ looking up. As he pushed through the doors at the bottom of the stairs, there was a familiar growl to his left. He kicked the damn goat-tiger-sheep hello and marched into the main room of the store proper. "So what the hell's going on here, anyway?" he demanded.

The cop interviewing D almost jumped. Leon actually recognized her-- Rowan? Ryan? Something like that-- and despite his bad mood, felt a pang of sympathy upon seeing the woman's frazzled expression. That one raccoon was determinedly gnawing on her boots, and the rest of the pets had circled D like a protective army.

Of course, the Count himself looked perfectly calm as always. Not to mention fully dressed in one of his dress-things despite it being close to two in the morning. "Mr. Detective," he purred (because there was really no other word for it), "how kind of you to join us."

"Detective Orcot!" Maybe Ryan yelped, casting an uncertain glance down at the raccoon and interrupting Leon's growled response to D. "We weren't expecting you-- you're not on duty, are you?"

"My little brother lives here," Leon gave by way of answer. "Speaking of which, Count--"

D nodded. "Chris is in bed. I thought it best if he didn't get too overstimulated by all the excitement."

"There was a break in," Maybe Rowan explained. She tapped her pen against her notepad distractedly.

"Let me guess. The poor crook got jumped by a fucking _snow leopard_."

Laughing softly, D shook his head. "Really, Mr. Detective, you know very well those are illegal." His voice was smooth and even and not at all like one would expect from a man who'd almost been robbed.

Leon gritted his teeth. "Tasmanian Tiger, then."

D raised a perfectly-arched eyebrow. "Extinct, sadly enough."

"Cut the crap, I _saw_ the marks on that guy's face."

Actually Maybe It Was Roman cleared her throat. "Detective Orcot--"

"I bet it really _was_ another tiger, wasn't it?!"

With a sudden move that shouldn't have been physically possible, D was standing in front of Leon, too close for comfort. The silks of his sleeve brushed against the other man's chest as he raised one slender hand, pressing a finger to Leon's lips in a shushing gesture. His skin was cool to the touch. "Perhaps," D murmured, his mismatched eyes amused and half-lidded, "you should attempt to cease making such a fool out of yourself."

Going nearly cross-eyed in the process, Leon noticed that the paint on D's long nail was chipped. There was a faint, reddish stain around the edges. The picture of D dragging his his hands over skin, his nails slicing through flesh like it was nothing, came unbidden to mind.

Leon swore. It really _wasn't_ his night at all, not when he found himself fixating on what those nails would feel like if they were ever so lightly traced over his own skin. He took a step back, addressing his fellow officer over D's silken-haired head. "Go ahead and finish taking his statement. I'm gonna go check on my brother."

It wasn't running away, Leon told himself as he turned around and marched towards Chris's room. But the glimpse he caught of D's expression, sly and predatory, told him otherwise.


End file.
